the good thing is they don't stain our fingernails and thumbpads with any kind of ink whatsoever.
on the days when everybody is reminded that being a responsible citizen means heading to the nearest polling station, i generally:
a) get asked to repeat my name.
b) get asked about my name.
c) get told that i look too young to vote.
d) get this feeling of weary frustration as i inevitably wonder about the merits of choosing the lesser evil/least of the evils.
tonight, for the first time ever, i wasn't asked to repeat my name, i wasn't asked to explain how i got my name, i wasn't told that i couldn't possibly be my age because i look way too young.
i still, however, cast my vote for the person i thought would do the least damage to society.
i could always comfort myself with the thought that i was at least spared from choosing between erap and gloria. that would have knocked me off my rockers for real, never to rejoin the ranks of the not terminally depressed. after all, the only thing that differentiates a stupid robber from a Georgetown-educated one is that the latter speaks gramatically-correct english while she tries to convince you that it is in your best interest that she is stabbing you in the back and starving your children.